Intertwined
by zarabithia
Summary: Trip views a Vulcan couple greeting one another and wonders why T’Pol doesn’t greet him the same way.


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Intertwined

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Rating: PG-13

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Disclaimer: I love 'em, but I still don't own 'em. No profit is being made.

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Pairings: T/T'P, short, happy fluff. A basic denial of all things to come in the new season. Except the crew does go home.

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Summary: Trip views a Vulcan couple greeting one another and wonders why T'Pol doesn't greet him the same way.

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Chocolate, Trip Tucker decided, was a sexual food if there ever was one.

He came to this revelation sitting outside the Vulcan compound, as strange of a location as that might have been. As T'Pol finished her welcome home chat with Soval, he permitted himself to enjoy one of the many Earth delights that had been denied to him for nearly a full year while he'd been in the Expanse. Taking a large bite of the chocolate bar, Trip allowed the substance to remain untouched on the tip of his tongue for a full minute before pressing it against the roof of his mouth, where it again lingered. Though his saliva had already moistened the treat, Trip clamped his teeth down to further mesh it into even smaller pieces. Again utilizing his tongue, Trip spread the luscious substance around his mouth, until the sweetness turned to a virtual syrup. Almost regretfully he swallowed the sugary goodness.

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Bliss. Nearly orgasmic bliss, he decided with a contented sigh. This, of course, made him think of T'Pol. _Hmm. A chocolate covered T'Pol. Haven't done that yet._

While Trip was contemplating ways to make T'Pol think the introduction of chocolate into their sex life was a logical thing to do, he was momentarily distracted by a movement to his left. Two robe clad Vulcans stood in front of one another speaking in hushed tones in what Trip presumed to be a greeting of some sort.

If his time with T'Pol had taught him nothing else about her people, it was how much they valued their privacy. Though he fully intended to turn away and give the couple their privacy, the unfamiliarity of what they were sharing held his gaze and he found himself unable to turn away.

The male Vulcan lifted his left hand towards the female with only his index and middle fingers extended. Though his movements were deliberate, the ease with which his hand swooped from his side to his female companion's similarly extended fingers made the action look effortless. As their fingertips met, and they began to lightly stroke each other's appendages, the Vulcans' movements became indistinguishable, and Trip was unable to tell any further who was initiating which movement, and who was following.

Then, in a language Trip instantly recognized, but didn't understand a word of, they began to speak. Their voices were quiet, and even if Trip had been as fluent in T'Pol's native tongue as she was in his, he wouldn't have been able to hear them well enough to distinguish what was being said.

But Trip didn't need to be an expert in the language to understand the message being conveyed. The meaning was coming through loud and clear, in all its simplicity and intimacy. For a species that didn't believe in showing emotion, the Vulcan couple was certainly expressing it in volumes.

Trip was feeling his own brand of emotion in an equal amount. Finally willing himself to turn away from the couple, Trip again felt confusion over his relationship with T'Pol. Up until now, he had believed their relationship - the same one that brought Trip an indefinable amount of joy - had been a solid one. If it was, then why hadn't T'Pol ever shared a moment like this with him?

To Vulcans, certain information is considered . . . intimate.

Well, what the hell? Aren't we intimate?

Of course they were. At least, Trip had thought so. They were certainly intimate by every standard he could think of. But, those were human standards. Were they intimate by Vulcan standards?

They _had _to be. Surely, Vulcans considered a man and a woman living together intimate, didn't they? _But it's not official. Maybe it has to be official on Vulcan in order to be considered 'intimate.'_

But there wasn't anything they could do about that. It couldn't be official, not as long as they wanted to continue to serve together. Starfleet would go nuts. For that matter, they couldn't make it official for reasons that had nothing to do with Starfleet. Mostly, the fact that Vulcan High Command would go nuts. In a very logical way, of course. Thus, even though they had woken up next to each other, had bathed in the same shower, and had walked to the Vulcan Compound together, ostensibly, _Commander _Tucker was waiting for newly commissioned _Commander _T'Pol to finish her business at the compound because they were both needed at Starfleet Headquarters for yet another in a long series of debriefings.

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Okay. So, we can't make it official. Surely, sex has to be considered intimate to a Vulcan too, doesn't it?

Doesn't it? Maybe not. And why should it? There were plenty of human cultures on Earth - both past and present - that didn't view sex in the same intimate view as Trip did. Maybe the Vulcans didn't either. Maybe sex was just. . . an effective method to ease tension.

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Like meditation.

That was a depressing thought. Maybe T'Pol didn't view him nearly as _intimately _as he viewed her. If she did, then why didn't she want to exchange _her _people's mating rituals as freely as he had?

The warmly familiar sound of T'Pol's voice interrupted his musings. "Come, Commander. We will be late."

Trip followed T'Pol silently to their transport, still preoccupied by the image of the Vulcan couple that had long since entered the compound. When they were safely inside the vehicle, Trip noticed the disconcerted expression on T'Pol's face - one no other human would have recognized - and pushed aside his own troubled thoughts. "How'd it go?"

"Soval continually finds new ways to masquerade illogic as reason."

When no reply was forthcoming, T'Pol looked at him curiously. Vaguely, Trip realized, it was his turn. His moment to make some sarcastic comment or joke at Soval's expense. It was a fond past time for them - usually. Today, however, he just didn't feel like it.

"Trip? Are you well?"

"I'm fine."

"You do not appear to be fine."

Trip glanced conspicuously at the pilot in front of them, and shrugged with a carelessness he didn't feel. "We can talk about it later."

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Later turned out to be _very _later. Meetings and de-briefings dragged on far longer than anyone who had helped save the planet deserved to be subjected to. Engineers appeared to form lines to ask him either bizarre theoretical questions that were utter nonsense, or basic engineering concepts that Trip had been able to answer during his first year of Starfleet.

Eventually, however, he found himself back at his apartment. And a little later after that, but not as later as was the norm, T'Pol found herself back at his apartment. Sometime after that, they both found themselves sitting on the living room couch. Trip found that T'Pol still wanted to talk.

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I wonder if just talking about being intimate is considered intimate on Vulcan.

"You are still disconcerted. Tell me what is wrong."

He smiled at the commanding tone in her voice. It was her no nonsense Vulcan voice - the same one she used on the bridge and underlings - mingled with the same lighter tone that she used when she caressed his cheek -

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Ever so intimately.

He wanted to tell her. But he was oh so afraid of sounding stupid. In fact, that was probably best case scenario. In the worst case scenario, he'd wind up feeling alone.

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Please let me sound stupid. Please let me sound stupid. "Well, I don't know how to ask this exactly. . . It might sound silly."

"Perhaps. But it is better for you to ask a 'silly' question than to continue dwelling upon a silly thought."

"Fair enough. Today, while I was waiting for you outside the Vulcan compound - "

"An _incident _occurred?"

"What? No! T'Pol! I didn't cause a diplomatic incident during the forty minutes you spent talking to Soval."

"I did not mean to imply that you did. . . You were timing me?"

"No. But we were late to the meeting.. . that's really besides the point." She was continuing to wait patiently for him to continue. Oddly, that bolstered Trip's confidence. Surely, if she could stand to listen to him babble like this, she had to care for him as strongly as he cared for her, right? She had to care for him _intimately. _ "There was this Vulcan couple."

"Most likely T'Pran and Solon. They entered the compound shortly before I exited."

"Right. So, T'Pran and Solon were. . .doing this thing with their fingers. It looked like some sort of greeting."

T'Pol lifted her index and middle fingers. "Did the gesture involve these two fingers?"

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Is she going to show me what the gesture means? Trip's heartbeat increased with the thought. "Yes."

Trip's hopes were dashed as T'Pol returned her hand to her lap. "You should not have observed them so closely. Their actions were very private."

"I KNOW that, T'Pol. What I don't know is why you've never felt the urge to do the same _actions _with me. I thought. . . "

"Trip, we have touched each other numerous times. I do not see why you are so upset."

"I'm _upset _because _you've _never touched me in _that particular _way before."

From the look on her face, he had accomplished what he'd hoped - he definitely sounded stupid. Or at least, T'Pol thought so. "If you are indeed still upset about this, I can properly demonstrate the touch. But I still do not understand why you are so upset about this."

Trip sighed, and leaned his head back into the couch. She didn't understand yet, but he had to find a way to get her to understand. It was _important. _ "T'Pol. The act between T'Pran and Solon. . . . it was pretty intimate, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"So, it's not something that would be shared in a _casual _relationship, right?"

"No."

Trip banged his head against the back of the couch in frustration. "Well, then why haven't we ever done it? Are we. .. is this . . . casual for you? Because it certainly isn't for me."

"You still believe I am using you as . . . .a 'lab rat'?"

"Well. . . . maybe not those words exactly. I don't know what Vulcan beliefs on sex are. And why don't I? I mean, I've been having sex with a Vulcan for how long?"

"Three months, two weeks-"

"And four days. Yeah, I know, T'Pol. It was a rhetorical question. And not the point at all."

"I understand your point clearly. You believe I did not share the interaction you demonstrated today because I do not view our relationship as a . . . serious one. Is that correct?"

"Yeah."

He felt her warm hand touch his face, and realized that was a cue to quit staring at the ceiling. Turning to face her, he could do nothing but wait.

"Your assessment of my view of our relationship is incorrect."

"And stupid?"

She raises an eyebrow at him. "I would not use that particular adjective. However, that does not make it an incorrect one."

Her hand moved from his cheek to his own left hand. "Vulcans are a telepathic species, Trip, as I have already _shared _with you."

There was a slight emphasis on shared. Trip realized it was T'Pol's subtle way of reminding him of the very _intimate _information she had disclosed over the course of their relationship. It was very unlikely that a Vulcan would share information about mind melds with a _lab rat_. "I know T'Pol. . . and telepathic ability is increased by touch. So, the finger thing - it allows couples to hear each other's thoughts?"

She tilts her head slightly as she shakes it. "Not precisely. It is not an exchange of thoughts per se. . . more an exchange of sentiment."

"Feelings?"

Who says Vulcans don't glare? "No. _Sentiment."_

Of course. Vulcans don't experience _feelings. "Sentiments _of affection?"

"Yes. As you _should _well be aware, I have much affection for you. However, as you are neither a Vulcan nor a telepath, I did not believe that particular exchange would serve any purpose in our relationship."

"Oh. That makes sense."

She raised her hand again in the same gesture he had seen that morning. "I trust you observed T'Pran and Solon closely enough that you recall the correct sequence of this procedure?"

"Yeah." Nervously, Trip held his own hand up in the same position.

"Begin at the tips and move downward towards the base of the hand. As you do so, focus on your _feelings _towards me."

It was good advice, and was helpful to Trip for approximately thirty seconds. After that, he lost all ability to think coherently. The minute T'Pol's fingers touched his, Trip felt his entire body engulfed in a delightful sensation that was almost impossible to describe. On one hand, it felt as though he were standing naked on a cool February night in San Francisco and allowing the breeze to tickle his skin. He was even sure he had the goose bumps to prove it. On the other hand, he felt so simultaneously _warm - _an August night in Florida with a coat on, standing in front of a bonfire kind of warm. But more importantly, he felt happy - Christmastime happy. No, happier. As happy as he felt holding T'Pol in those post-coital moments. Holding T'Pol on Christmas Eve happy.

As quickly as the sensation had begun, it ended. T'Pol ended the touch, and as Trip rejoined the land of the conscious, he saw her non-smile tugging at her lips. "It appears I was wrong."

"Yeah. . . T'Pol that was. . . incredible. Is it always like that?"

"The intensity of the experience depends upon the intensity of the affection being conveyed."

"I love you, T'Pol and we should do that more often."

"I cherish you, adun, and I agree. However, perhaps next time we should combine Vulcan and human techniques." T'Pol rose and cast a not at all subtle glance towards the bedroom.

"Sounds good to me. Oh, and T'Pol, there's something else I thought about this morning at the compound."

"Does it involve demonstrating affection as well?"

"Yep. It also involves chocolate. . . "

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The End.


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